Playground Games
by LiliHayagame
Summary: It was common knowledge that England hated France, so it was an understatement to say that France was shocked to see the other nation calling him, in the middle of the night, all to ask a question that made Francis just a little bit nostalgic.


Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia

Summary: It was common knowledge that England hated France, so it was an understatement to say that France was shocked to see the other nation calling him, in the middle of the night, all to ask a question that made Francis just a little bit nostalgic.

_**Playground Games**_

Francis hated England.

England hated Francis.

Heck the word "hate" wasn't even enough to describe how the two nations felt for each other. They've been fighting ever since anyone could remember and it was only a wonder to the other nations that they hadn't even attempted to kill each other yet.

So, needless to say, Francis was at a loss when he saw, very clearly and without any kind of mistake, England's name blinking on the screen of his BlackBerry, implying that the Brit was the one calling him.

He quickly composed himself after the third ring and pressed the green button, bringing the phone to his ears. "_Mon Dieu Angleterre, _Do you even have any idea what time it is?!" Francis demanded, pretending to be more angry than curious.

Francis expected curses and screaming from the other end but all he got was complete silence. The Frenchman waited for five full seconds before he opened his mouth, ready to lecture the other nation on manners and how he had ruined his beauty sleep when England finally answered.

"'m sorry France," _that _shut him up. France blinked at the phone he now held in front of him suspiciously. The slurred and muffled speech suggested that the Englishman was drunk, but somehow France had a feeling that wasn't the case.

The Frenchman huffed with his nose high in the air, even though England couldn't see it. "Well you'd better be sorry, _Angleterre_. You just ruined my beauty sleep! Do you have any idea what this will do to my flawless skin?"

England was silent for another few seconds. "If you call that sagging hide of yours flawless then I'd truly hate to see what the French call hideous," he mumbled, voice just barely audible over the phone.

France gasped dramatically and was having the urge to just chuck his phone at the wall and go back to sleep when England's voice came through once again. "Francis, am I a failure?"

France blinked stupidly. He didn't know what shocked him more, the fact that England called him by his first name for the first time in years or the question that was directed at him.

_What's wrong? _He wanted to ask a ton of things like '_What happened?'_ or_ 'You're crying?__'_, but what came out of his mouth was "No. No you're not."

England gave a sullen laugh. "Funny. I can't even count the number of times you've called me a 'complete failure of a nation', frog."

"Alright _Angleterre_, who got you so upset this time?" The Frenchman finally spit out. He moved to stand up, and walked towards his window, where there was a clear view of the Eiffel Tower. Possible suspects were already running through his head. First on the list was that idiot America.

Silence reigned once more and France tapped his foot impatiently on the pristine marble floor. "Who else do you think?"

Oh, so it was a guessing game now, was it? English bastard. "You know _Angleterre, _perhaps if it was not 2 in the morning I would have _loved _to play with you, but unfortunately, it _is _and I am _tired_. So unless you start putting up a more proper conversation than this I will-"

"It was my brothers."

France instantly felt irked at being interrupted but he got over it quickly after hearing England's answer. He resisted the urge to sigh. Oh, so it was _them _again. France moved to lean on his windowsill, trying to get comfortable before continuing.

"Arthur, remember when you were still a tiny little colony?" France began as if talking to a little child. "Remember how your brothers used to bully you and you'd come running to me, and I would cheer you up by playing those little games I taught you?"

England didn't respond, and France figured he might be taking a little trip down Memory Lane. He smiled as he looked out at his beautiful city, and for a moment, he imagined it as nothing but grass, green grass as far as the eye can see. He looked up and saw beautiful blue skies and puffy white clouds. He closed his eyes and heard voices. Familiar, childish voices.

'_Here, let's play a game.'_

'_Don't want to.'_

'_Aw, don't be such a spoilsport. You'll love it!'_

'_Well…what's it called?'_

'_It's called _Je te tiens, tu me tiens par la barbichette_.__'_

'_Ehh?? What kind of a name is that?'_

_Melodious laughter rang out through the valley. 'It is French silly, in English it means "I've got you, you've got me by the hairs of my chinny chin chin."'_

_The younger one stuck his tongue out. '__It sounds even weirder,' but he was promptly ignored by the older one._

'_Well the mechanics are, I hold your chin with my thumb and forefinger,' the younger tried to pull away but the older one took his hand and placed it on his own chin, manuevering the fingers so that they were holding his chin firmly. 'Then we try outstare each other. The first to laugh, smile or blink loses.'_

_The little one scoffed. 'That sounds easy. So what happens to the loser?'_

_The older put a hand on his cheek, pretending to think deeply. 'Well originally you're just supposed to tap the loser on the cheek. Like this,' he poked the younger on the cheek lightly, __and the smaller one frowned. 'That's not very exciting.'_

_Another peal of laughter escaped the older one's lips. 'Well what would_ you_ propose?'_

_The young one paused for a while, before brightening and saying._ '_The loser gets to bake muffins for the winner!'_

'_But _Angleterre_, you don't even know _how _to bake.'_

'_That's not a problem because I _know_ I'll win!'_

Francis opened his eyes and smiled fondly at the memory. That was so long ago, and he would be lying if he said he didn't miss it.

Finally, England's reply came. Francis wondered if the sounds coming from the other end were sniffles. "Hey Francis?"

"Yes Arthur?"

"Can we play it again sometime? Loser gets to bake muffins for the winner?" he said, voice laced with childlike hope, hiccuping a few times.

France smiled even wider and closed his eyes. "I'd love to, _Angleterre_."

oOo

Ok, wrote this after experiencing the disappointment of my life. Not gonna mention exactly what it's about, but I have to say it's got nothing to do with my love life.

Ok, some may say that Francis is an opportunistic bastard who would take advantage of any situation. But for me there's more to his character than that. My opinion of France is that he was once a caring older brother figure to little England and still is. England just grew up and is now too proud to admit needing any of France's TLC.

Except of course in those days where he experiences a mental breakdown. I can't really imagine him running to anyone except to France in situations like that.

About the game mentioned in the flashback, I researched that it was a common French game for kids, and I just thought it was cute. If I made any mistake regarding the mechanics, please tell me, and I'll fix it :)

And finally, apologies for my horrible writing, I'm not in the best of moods right now. *bows deeply*


End file.
